35. Angel

In one day, he has done more than I was able to do on my own in a year. We have a place. We know where to find the guys. Now, we just have to get them there.

"Think we can grab them both together?" I ask as we drive down the road.

It has started to snow. Messiah is moving slower than usual as the street lights turn on and the snow falling on the windshield turns into an odd vortex.

"Maybe? Have to think it out," he tells me. "Hungry, Baby?"

I nod. I actually am.

"We need to tell Kevin where I am," I tell him. "He will call the cops and report me if he hasn't already."

"Kevin can keep his nose in his own fucking business," he growls.

"Please," I say. "He really helped me when I had no one else. I can't just abandon him like that."

He hands me his phone to call him, but I don't know Kevin's number by heart. The snow is getting worse and we don't want to make the trek to the club. He tells me my phone is back at his apartment somewhere and we stop at a deli to grab food before heading back.

His phone dings with a weather alert as we are in the elevator.

"Fucking blizzard," he grumbles, looking at it.

The apartment is cold when we step in, and Messiah turns on the old radiator in the living room, giving it a kick for good measure, while I set the food out on the table. My phone is buried in a dresser drawer when he finds it but it is dead.

"Sorry," he gives me a sheepish grin and tugs the charger cord out from behind the couch.

I don't hesitate to eat this time which I think he is happy to see. He checks the weather during the silence that falls while we are eating. His food is gone before mine, and I continue to eat slowly, glancing between him and the heavy snow falling outside the window.

"How long is that going to last?" I ask.

"Why did you pick Angel?" he responds.

"What?"

"The name Angel. Why do you use it and not your real name?"

My fingers pick on the pickle laying limply on my sandwich wrapper. "Everleigh died."

"That so?"

I nod. "After –" My brow furrows as I fight to find the words. "After that all happened, they left me at the L station."

"Where was your sister?"

"She . . . she was with them."

The skin on his palms creaks as he tightens his fist and sets it in his lap. "What?"

"She knew them," I explain. I don't want to speak ill about my sister, but the reality of the entire situation is that it only happened because of her. "She was short on cash, but wanted the drugs. They made an offer. She was the only person I had so . . . when she said it was going to be okay I believed her."

I can feel my eyes growing warm as the tears threaten to fall. Taking a deep breath, I push the last of my sandwich away and set my hands in my lap.

"After everything, she thought they were giving me a ride back to where we were staying at the time. She wasn't there when things got . . . well, when they did what they did. Instead, the took me to Holden's place and then left me at the L station when they were done. The cops found me. I was taken to a hospital."

A lot of it is blurry in my memory. They had me doped up during the videos but the pain made most of it wear off. I remember waking up to a person I didn't know sitting next to me. She asked me questions about what had happened, but I couldn't tell her anything. I was too afraid. I did tell her my sister"s name and that was when River found out what had happened.

"She was pissed, understandably. I spent a few days in the hospital, then they just let me go. I wouldn't give them any answers, so there wasn't anyone they could arrest. It wasn't long before River tried to bring charges against them for it. She could only give them Mikel's name, she didn't know anyone else by their real name. It took about a month of back and forth before the case was dropped. No one wanted to listen to a drug addict bitch about what a guy did to her while she was under the influence."

His face is stoic as he stares out the window. I can't tell what he is thinking. I don't like it. Is he going to get mad? Is he going to hate me? Last time he got mad, he trashed his room. He says he won't hurt me, but I don't trust him enough to believe that.

"It messed with my head," I continue, my eyes steady on him. "And . . . it got to be too much. I tried to – I took an overdose."

At that he stands, running his hand across his mouth as he turns away from me.

"That was when Everleigh died," I tell him. "I never felt like her after that. I was taken to a hospital, and a day later they transferred me to Ascension. I was there for three weeks and during that time . . . "

My chin starts to shake. I have never told anyone this story. The only ones that know it were the ones somehow involved. Even when the doctors asked me to tell them where my injuries came from, when the cops asked what I knew about Mikel, and when I spent those three weeks locked away – I never told anyone. Because at the end of the day, just as it had always been my whole life, I knew it was going to be my fault.

It was my fault for following my drug addicted sister. It was my fault for trusting her. It was my fault for willingly going over to a man's house – a man I didn't know – after dark. It was my fault. They wanted me to feel shame about it, but they wouldn't let me kill myself. That is the burden a victim bears. We must live our life in suffering. We can't take the easy way out. Who would our accusers yell at then? Who would be left to blame for what happened?

"During that time, she overdosed. Apparently, she got a bad batch of something, it had fentanyl in it –"

He turns around and steps toward me. The anger on his face makes me jump out of my seat, holding my hand up to stop him. His hands go up as well and he pauses as he looks down at me.

"Come here," he says gently.

I shake my head, taking another step back.

"Angel, I won't hurt you. Come here." He waves his hand for me to come closer.

For a few moments, I debate it. If I don't listen, is he going to tie me up again? The day was going well. So well that I was hoping he didn't chain me up when we went to bed. His arms are open as he waits for me. My toes bump against the ground as I force my legs to step forward. Once in reach, he moves toward me and wraps his arms around me. The smell of him surrounds me along with his warmth. The tears that had been threatening to come out spill over and a sob escapes me before I realize it. His arms tighten as he pulls me against him, and I am overcome with grief that has been buried for far too long.